


what if there were two side by side in orbit?

by cosmicpoet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Maki has a panic attack, and Kaito is there for her. As he always is.





	what if there were two side by side in orbit?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [criischan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/criischan/gifts).



Sometimes, there are memories of the training she went through. The thing with trauma is that her brain, even after a decade, hasn’t decided how exactly it wants to process the abuse that still ricochets off the walls of her mind; some days, she forgets, blacks out, knows nothing of anything except what her name is supposed to sound like when she’s being called into Hell. Other days, she whirlpools back into despair, feeling present as she was when she was a teenager, violent wounds bubbling under her flesh, a reminder that she cannot fail, she cannot disobey. The blood feels fresh, recent, and when she emerges from her stupor, she frequently finds that she has scratched herself raw - even in trying to scrub herself clean of the past, she has wounded herself again. It’s days like these wherein she feels that inflicting pain may be all she is good for.

And then there are the empty days. The ones like today, where everything within her is hollow. The space in her chest where childhood should have sat tightens in agony, until she’s clutching at her stomach and trying to fit herself into a jigsaw-puzzle world that rejects her at every turn. Dissociating from reality, she can only sob, because she feels so empty that she may as well cry until her throat closes in on itself and she becomes an independent bodily system, and no hurt can get in, but no love either.

She draws her knees up to her chest and presses her back against the wall, sobbing, but the tears are hollow. It’s like her body is an empty orchestra, sounds bouncing around, coming back to bite her with the realisation that she has, contained within herself, all of the sadness that will never go away. The same sadness that makes her who she is, or, at least, who she defines herself to be - cold, unloveable, broken.

Of course, there’s Kaito. There’s _always_ Kaito, and he never sees her that way. She hates herself for it, most of the days, when he drops everything to come to her side and try to cheer her up; when it doesn’t work - because a cup of tea and a bright-eyed spaceman can’t undo a lifetime of trauma - she feels a terrible guilt crushing her from the heart downwards. He deserves someone who can be more for him, someone who can laugh with him and match his enthusiasm. On every day - the forgetful days, the flashback days, the empty days - she feels like she doesn’t deserve him.

So, when she looks up from her knees and sees him standing in the doorway, beautifully silhouetted by the soft light of the kitchen behind him, she tries to turn away. She tries to hide her face. But there’s such gentle comfort in the way he kneels down next to her, saying nothing, and lets her bury her face into his shoulder. He puts his arms around her and holds her close, not so tight that she couldn’t escape, but enough to remind her that he’s there, should she want him.

Her tears soak through his shirt, and she feels ashamed. Still, he’s there for her. His goatee tickles her when he kisses her gently on the forehead; holding her, holding her, holding her.

“Hey, Maki Roll,” he whispers, his voice rough and hazy, soft and calm. He contains multitudes. “It’s alright. We’re gonna get through this. You and me, yeah?”

“I-I…c-can’t…”

“Sweetheart, yes you can. Of _course_ you can. You’ve done it before, and you can do it now. What do you need?”

“I d-don’t know…”

“You’re safe. You know that, don’t you?”

She shakes her head, sobbing.

“You are,” he continues, “I promise you. I don’t let you down, do I? You can trust me - you’re safe. All of the horrible things you’re going through right now, they’re just memories. Bad memories, yeah, but they’re memories. Gone. You’re never going back to how things were, you got that? Never.”

“B-But what i-if…”

“I _promise_ you, Maki Roll. You have my word, just like you have my whole heart. Cry it out if you need to, and I’ll be here for anything - _everything -_ that you need.”

Crying takes its toll on her. She’s only small, slight, and riddled with scars that each have devastating stories associated with them. The act of having a panic attack has winded her, and, as the unrelenting hurricane of trauma beats her down, she sobs, and sobs, and sobs into Kaito’s chest until she falls asleep.

Then, he’s looking at her. And he knows that this is the woman that he loves. In every universe, in every lifetime, they’ll be together. He has nightmares, too. Ones of an alternate reality, where he’s bleeding and coughing and _dying,_ and she’s lost and losing and lonely, and everything goes so wrong that death feels like an execution and a release simultaneously. His mind taunts him with the only thing in this world that scares him - not losing her, but leaving her. The idea of her being alone once more. The idea of Kaito Momota becoming just another name in the list of people who promised her things and then left her to crumble in her own personal Valley of Ashes.

Not here. He swears this, silently, to himself. He will never leave her, unless she asks. He will follow her to the ends of the universe. He will exist _for_ her, proud and resilient, a pillar for the both of them. It’s nice to be needed, and reciprocation of a feeling is still strange territory for him, but he won’t even let himself show that to her. He’s strong - he must be. He is.

Kissing her on the head once more, he scoops her up into his arms and carries her over to the bed. She’s wearing one of his shirts, and his face softens further into a smile upon noticing this - but it’s winter, and she’ll get cold. He tucks the duvet around her, watching as she subconsciously pulls it towards her and curls up.

Soon, he’ll lie beside her, as they do each night.

Soon, she’ll wake from a nightmare. He’ll lie and say that he hasn’t woken from one, too.

Now, it’s fine. It’s alright. It’s real, with all the scars to prove it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my wonderful friend Criis!
> 
> Title from 'Nightswimming' by R.E.M. (a VERY good song).


End file.
